Midnight Musing
by James Is A Dalek
Summary: Note to Tegan: Please don't leave the boys alone in the Tardis again. [Fifth x Turlough]


**Random, FifthxTurlough flu—Slash. Yes. Many thanks to the person who corrected me on that little mistake in phrasing, there :D**

**Wordcount;; 731**

**-+-**

The situation inside the Tardis had changed so rapidly, so quickly, Turlough barely had time to process everything as it was occurring. Yet now, now he had the warmth of a sheet over his bare body and the Doctor's heavy, slumbersome breathing hot on his neck, he felt as though he could muse for the span of eternity.

In complete truth, he could say he hadn't meant for anything of the sort to happen. A few fleeting thoughts had entered his mind, perhaps once or twice, in regards to the Doctor, and that had been that. He had never expected anything to ever develop, to ever be anything more than companions, and yet, when the Doctor had brushed Turlough's lips with his own, quite on accident as he was leaning over to reach for his hat that had strayed to rest on a jutting portion of the Tardis wall, the Trion couldn't help but respond thirstily, just the sensation of being this close exciting him.

The Doctor could have pulled away then, just pulled away and stuttered an apology in that embarrassed manner. He didn't. Perhaps it was fate, they were meant to be like this, because as soon as he felt the Doctor lean into him, push his arms around Turlough's body and respond almost as eagerly to the kiss, the emotions he received had gone deeper than on even that fateful day when the Time Lord had saved his life.

Thinking back, he could hardly even remember shedding layers of clothing. It was like seeing a spliced film strip. He could play it backwards and forwards, rewind and fast forward in his mind for as many times as he liked, yet all he saw was one scene jumping rapidly to the next. It had been hurried, though, Turlough could fathom that much, and he could still feel remains from a harsh twinge of need to have him, to see him without the soft-stitched cricketing jumper and loose-fitting flannel trousers.

Vislor, still under the sheets, removed his hand from the Doctor's naked side and pressed it to the center of his ribcage, as if the twinge was still evident. It was, in many respects. He just had to glance over, see the Doctor curled over slightly towards him like that, see his exquisite blond hair fall in waves over the pillow both their heads lay upon and see his chest rise and fall deeply as he slept for somewhat of a choke to be brought to his throat, his heart both pounding, beating forever harder against his ribs and almost aching with the feelings he sought so hard to express earlier that eve.

He could still feel the warmth of the Doctor's back beneath his touch and the shiver that had dropped through his spine as they met closer, closer than had ever been achieved betwixt them. And when that single, small, needy note fell from the Doctor's lips, Turlough found he knew exactly how to react, to fulfill the want. Even now, hours later, the memory that final crash of their bodies still sent Turlough's own body shivering, and he could remember the last bucks of the Gallifreyan's back up to his own stomach so vividly he had to reach out and press his fingers to the man's form, just to make sure.

The Doctor made an incoherent mutter of a word in his slumber, leaving his mouth slightly ajar, as Turlough was to soon notice.

Even after it was over, after the deed was done, the Doctor hadn't pushed him away, hadn't turned his back on the young Trion. In fact, he had done the opposite, and embraced him tight, leaving a blazing trail of tender kisses down his neck as he uttered such beautiful comments in his ear, complementing Turlough in ways he'd never experienced before. He could never let himself forget them, never let himself forget how the Doctor had praised him, not when such simple words could mean so much.

With a sigh, more out of content than other matters, Vislor removed his head from his arm, then that arm from the pillow, and moved himself closer to the other, his head soon curled to the Doctor's neck for slightly more security.

Within moments, their breathing had become almost synchronized, and he had joined the Doctor in a state of deep, unbroken sleep.


End file.
